


On the Bumpy Road to Love

by Gwynnia



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-18
Updated: 2016-12-18
Packaged: 2018-09-09 10:06:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8886799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gwynnia/pseuds/Gwynnia
Summary: Scott doesn't know what Stiles is planning, but whatever it is he's clearly not going to let an overabundance of potholes get in his way.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Stivvy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stivvy/gifts).



Scott winces as he lands back in his seat, sending a glare in the rearview mirror toward the offending pothole.

“Sorry,” Stiles says, jerking the wheel to avoid another one.  “I had no idea the road would be this bad.”

“I still can’t believe I forgot Roscoe,” Scott grumbles.  “You’d think even the ghost riders wouldn’t be able to wipe the memory of his terrible suspension from my tailbone.”

“Rude,” Stiles shoots back, but Scott can tell his heart isn’t actually in it.  The road really is in terrible condition.  It’s clearly taking all of Stiles’ concentration to only hit every third or fourth pothole instead of subjecting them to a constant roller coaster of bumps.  At least the road has been deserted so far aside from them.  It would have been even worse if they’d been forced to stick to their side of the road by passing traffic.

“You know, if I knew where we were going I might think this was more worth it,” Scott says.

“What part of ‘surprise’ was unclear?”

“I _am_ surprised.  I had no idea werewolves could get carsick.”

“You know what-” Stiles’ reply is cut off as they hit another massive pothole, his jaw closing with an audible snap.  Scott tilts his head, eyebrows raised.

“You were saying?”

“Yes, fine, this is kind of crap.  I think we should be there soon, though.”

“Wherever there is,” Scott mutters, but he lets it drop.  Stiles is starting to look pretty tense and Scott doesn’t want to distract him into hitting an even greater percentage of the potholes.  He just hopes they get where they’re going before there’s more pothole than road.

As if in answer to this thought, there’s another almighty bump and then a relentless crunching as the paved road runs out and switches to gravel.  It still isn’t a smooth ride, but it’s a noticeable improvement, and after a few minutes Scott tentatively relaxes back into his seat and looks around.  The trees surrounding them offer no clue to their destination.  All he knows is that they’re somewhere west of Beacon Hills.  He had been too distracted to pay much more attention than that, first by an extended argument over what to put on the radio, then by the road conditions.

“Aha, this must be it,” Stiles says suddenly after they’ve been driving in companionable silence for a little while.  Scott looks up and sees that they’ve reached a fork in the road.  Stiles takes the left hand one, making a pleased noise under his breath when it begins to climb sharply soon after.  Scott is just beginning to think he can hear something else under the noise of tires on gravel, a sort of dull roaring sound, when the trees suddenly open out and Stiles pulls to a stop.

“We’re here!” he announces, undoing his seatbelt and throwing himself out of the car.  Scott’s nose is immediately assaulted with the distinct tang of the sea, and the roaring resolves itself into the crashing of waves.  He follows Stiles out of the car and over to where he’s standing near the edge of a cliff.  Far below them the waves are beating against the bottom of the cliff, swirling around the rocks before they make their way back out to sea.

“Dad used to bring mom out here sometimes,” Stiles says, plopping down slightly too close to the edge for Scott’s comfort.  “He said they would watch the sun set over the ocean.  Apparently I’ve been here before, sort of. This is where she told him that she was pregnant.”

Scott looks down at Stiles, who is staring out across the ocean in the general direction of the sun, which is indeed approaching the horizon.  They don’t talk about his mother much, any more than they talk about Scott’s father.  This has been especially true since his return, after Stiles had been filled in about the imposter who had taken up residence in Stiles’ home in his absence.

“I’m pretty sure this is where dad proposed, too.  I mean, I never asked about it, but there’s this picture of the two of them standing in front of the ocean where her ring is really visible, and this looks a lot like it.”  He gestures out in front of him, then looks up at Scott.  “Dude, sit down already.  You’re too tall to look at up there.”

Scott lowers himself to the ground, fishing around for something to say.  “It’s a pretty awesome view,” he offers at last.

“Apparently in a few weeks it’s going to be crawling with whale watchers.  But it’s pretty quiet a lot of the time.  Too out of the way.”

“You know a lot about it for not having been here before.”

Stiles shrugs.  “I did some research.”

They fall silent again, both looking out at the sun as it inches closer to the horizon.  Scott is about to say something to try to lighten the mood when Stiles turns toward him.  Suddenly he looks alarmingly intent, and Scott can’t help instinctively asking “What?  What’s wrong?”

Stiles snorts, “No, nothing’s wrong, it’s just… Scott…”  He trails off, his eyes tracing Scott’s face.  Scott stares back, searching for some sort of clue as to what might have Stiles suddenly looking so serious.  Maybe if he looks long enough at his furrowed brow, at the way his tongue darts out over lips that have fallen slightly open, maybe he’ll have some idea what to expect.

“Do you remember,” Stiles finally says, “right before the ghost riders took me, and I tried to tell you something?”

“Yeah?” Scott says, shaking his head a little.  He’d had no idea what Stiles had been trying to say then either.

“Well, I told myself, if I ever got back, I’d tell you.  And here I am, so…” he trails off again, and Scott wants to shake him so he’ll just spit it out already.  Is Stiles dying?  Is that why he’d brought him up to somewhere that was so important to his mother?  He’d said nothing was wrong, but what if… Scott would give him the bite, of course, he’s known that for years, but what if Stiles doesn’t want it?  What if –

“Hey!  Earth to Scott!”  Scott refocuses on Stile’s face.  His expression has shifted into something softer, exasperated and a bit fond.  “Whatever you’re thinking, it’s not that, ok?  It’s just…” he heaves a huge sigh, but luckily for Scott’s sanity this time he keeps talking.  “Before I left, I told Lydia I loved her.  And I meant it, but… I wanted to tell you too.  So even if you didn’t remember me, maybe there’d be something there, something that stayed with you, you know?  Only, I couldn’t.  The words were right there.  And I couldn’t say them.  I kept thinking about that while I was gone, why I could tell Lydia and I couldn’t tell you, and I just…” he runs a hand through his hair, causing it to stick even further in all directions than it already did, a spiky silhouette against the sky that’s starting to turn orange behind him.

“Dude, I know you do,” says Scott, still waiting for the other shoe to drop.  “You’ve told me like a million times.”

“Not like this.”

Scott turns his head a little, as if looking at Stiles from the corner of his eye instead of dead on will somehow help him understand better.  Stiles stares back, a look of mingled hope and fear on his face.  As Scott continues to look at him from under lowered brows, the hope slowly drains away.

“It’s fine, I get it,” Stiles says, turning to look back out at the ocean.  “I just thought you should know.”

“Stiles,” Scott says sharply.

“Forget it.” Stiles says, one of his hands moving in a limp parody of one of his usual energetic gestures.

“ _Stiles_ ,” Scott says again, insistently, letting just enough of his alpha power creep into his voice that Stiles has no choice but to turn to look at him again.  By the immediate look of irritation that flashes over Stiles’ face, he figures he must have overdone it.

“Dude, not cool,” Stiles says, gesturing at Scott’s eyes.  He must have accidentally used enough power for them to flash red, but if that’s what it takes to get answers out of Stiles…

“You realize,” Scott says, raising his eyebrows to show he isn’t sorry in the least, “that I have no idea what you’re talking about?”

“I _told_ you,” Stiles says, sounding more annoyed with every word.  Scott shakes his head at him, and he snaps “Honestly, how hard is ‘I love you’ to understand?”

“Yeah, I got that part, but –” Scott breaks off abruptly.  _Not like this_.  “Wait.  Do you mean…”  Stiles glares at him.  “Really?”

“No, I thought I’d bring you all the way up here for a joke,” Stiles says, every inch of him dripping sarcasm.  “Look, can we just go back to pretending this didn’t happen?”  He moves as if to get up, but Scott’s hand shoots out, landing on his shoulder and keeping him in place.  Stiles’ glare intensifies, but Scott ignores him, staring intently in his eyes.  Stiles’ heartbeat, he notices, is going a million miles an hour.  Even at that speed, the sound settles something in him.  He can’t help remembering how empty the world had sounded without Stiles’ heartbeat in it, how his ears had always been straining for something even if he didn’t know what he was listening for.

His hand has crept up to the side of Stiles’ face without him noticing how it got there.  Stiles looks wary now.  He’s still tense, as if he’s ready to bolt at any second, but the hope is sneaking back into his face.  Scott grins, unable to help the predatory edge the creeps into it as everything slots into place in his mind.  He knows Stiles must see the intent in his face because his eyes grow gratifyingly wide a second before Scott leans in to claim his lips with his own.

If he’d had any remaining doubts, they’d have been swept away in the feeling of relief that courses through him as soon as their lips meet.  It feels like the moment when Stiles first emerged from his cocoon after the nogitsune, Scott’s name on his lips, like the punch to the gut of hearing a voice he knew, deep in his soul, familiar and dear even over the crackling of the car radio, and really Scott ought to have known before now.  He’d been distracted, caught by the easy confidence of Allison’s smile, by the lightning that sparked in Kira’s eyes.  He hadn’t been wrong, but this.  This is right.

Scott is more grateful than ever for his enhanced senses as they let him catalog every nuance of sensation.  The racing of Stiles’ heartbeat, the slight tremble in his hands as they run restlessly up and down Scott’s back, the tiny breaths of air he gulps in between their lips in the fragments of time they part.  He is even more grateful a moment later, when Stiles shifts to get a better grip on him and some instinct has him throwing them to the side before his conscious brain properly realizes that they were about to unbalance and go over the cliff.

“You know,” Scott says, his nose a mere inch from Stiles’ where they lay on the ground, “I think that’s taking the whole ‘falling for you’ thing a bit far.”

“Would you believe I forgot the cliff was there?” Stiles asks.  He grins sheepishly, and Scott is swamped by a feeling of such fondness that he can’t stop himself from darting in to kiss him again.  He pulls back after a moment, sitting up and reaching a hand down to Stiles, even though he knows perfectly well that Stiles doesn’t need any help.  It’s dark, he notices, and he wonders how long they sat on the edge of the cliff, unaware of anything but each other.

“Looks like we missed the sunset,” Stiles says, sounding a bit sad.  Scott is surprised for a moment, before remembering what Stiles told him about his parents watching the sunset from this overlook.  His heart swells as he realizes all over again just how much this must mean for Stiles, to go to the trouble of bringing him out here.  Gently he gives Stiles’ hand a squeeze.

“That’s all right, you’ll just have to bring me back up here some other time.”

“Deal,” Stiles says, squeezing back.  They sit quietly for a bit, holding hands and darting their glances between each other and the last glimmers of daylight fading from the clouds.  Scott is just contemplating picking up where they left off before nearly toppling off the cliff when something occurs to him.

“Wait, does this mean we have to go back down that road in the dark?”


End file.
